


On Hinges, On Haunches

by zoomzoomzuppa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Draco Malfoy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Draco hates riddles, F/M, Feeble humans, Omega Hermione Granger, Post-Apocalyptic, Werewolf!AU, nightwalkers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoomzoomzuppa/pseuds/zoomzoomzuppa
Summary: Draco is the alpha of his pack in a world forgotten by sleeping gods.





	On Hinges, On Haunches

**Author's Note:**

> This would not be possible without my hand-holder, cheerleader, co-conspirator, and fixer of all things wonky: **PartyLines**. Without you there would be far less brevity and we would all be gazing at each other until oblivion. Thank you for putting up with my inane questions, and thank you more for taking this story word for word with me as it grew. I would be lost in the woods without you! And on top of it all, she made the wonderful graphic for this story! I swear, she does it all.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing HP related at all.

 

In the wasteland, nothing survived on its own.

 

Time was heat beating down from an unforgiving sun, and energy was given only to those who had the strength to endure.

 

There were few left who _could_ endure.

 

The world was segregated – those who lived within its confines set into separate pockets far from each other’s reach, invisible borders keeping them from encroaching on another’s territory. There were those who only walked at night, their skin fragile to the sun’s rays. There were those who lived through the day but were weakened by work and slept through the night. There were those who were burdened with such power they slept for decades deep beneath the crust of the burnt earth; many believed these would rise again and bring a reckoning.

 

Built from the night and the cool of the moon were those who could work through the day with a tenacity other-worldly in nature and they thrived as the darkness swallowed the earth. They sought humanity in the light but found only remnants of it left within them as night fell. These were the most feared beings that roamed the barren world.

 

These were the wolves.

 

~

 

It was winter when the world changed.

 

There were three of them - bound and bruised - blood crusted over scars too great to count. The men were unconscious but the woman – she was fire between them. Her eyes were expectant and unafraid, her lips set and determined in an indignant frown.

 

She had seen more than her lifetimes’ worth of trauma, and yet she shone with a ferocity that made Draco’s men quiver in their worn, battered boots. Despite the omega scent rolling off her in waves that made the hairs on the back of their neck stand at up, there was a feral coolness about her that kept them at bay.

 

The group was mixed – both man and wolf alike – poised for attack and with teeth barred in snarls. The flicker of the torch Theo held illuminated the three faces before him and he was stunned. Those who were shifted returned to man with a hushed and shaken howl, whispers sweeping across the band leaving fear in the echoes.

 

“We are Slytherin-bred,” Theo said, taking a knee as though he stood before royalty, the strength in her eyes keeping him frozen.

 

She said nothing.

 

“We are Gryffindor.”

 

Theo shook, eyes jumping to the sleeping men on either side of the calm, cold woman.

 

“We are Gryffindor.”

 

The two strangers still slept, though their mouths and tongues moved in unison. The men could feel the blood in their veins run cold; could feel their hearts beat against their ribs like a call to the unknown.

 

“We are here.”

 

She said _nothing_.

 

~

 

Their scars were legion across their skin and the women worked with tireless hands, cooling the wounds with salves, wrapping their sore bodies with leaves and cloth. The newcomers slept soundly - undisturbed - for days. None spoke - even in their rest as they had before - leaving Draco frayed; seeking truths he could barely begin to comprehend.

 

Five days after their arrival, Luna approached their leader.

 

“They are awake,” she started calmly, then held her hand up to stop him from bolting from his seat. “They are awake and they will talk, but they will eat first.”

 

Draco sank back down, nerves shooting down to his fingertips. Theo and Blaise were at his side and though they were formidable alphas, they were shaken by their waking: as though their existence would split the earth in two.

 

“As always I trust your judgment.”

 

Luna bowed deeply - a smile proud across her lips - before returning to the Healing House to tend to those within, leaving Draco to his thoughts. As Luna disappeared from the entrance-way, Theo and Blaise visibly relaxed, thankful they weren’t immediately required to entertain the disconcerting trio.

 

“She was divine.” Blaise spoke; wistful. “Her scent was like none I’ve ever had the luxury to encounter.”

 

Draco shot Blaise a scathing glare. “Your luxury or lack thereof should be of no concern. We have greater things that need our attention in regards these three.”

 

_Such as: why now?_

 

Blaise immediately snapped back to a sullen attention as Theo chuckled at Draco’s left.

 

“In Blaise’s defense – he’s right. She smothered the Alphas flanking her – I barely registered them. She shone like the full moon; our hearts were but tawdry shards at her feet.”

 

Draco cringed. “Have I a poet at my side, or a warrior?” He asked, though there was no malice in his voice. His lips pulled up in a smirk, and he thanked the gods of their desolate lands that he had these two formidable men at his side for what would likely prove to be an incredible endeavor.

 

Hours passed and the nerves that Luna’s announcement delivered waned. The evening brought clouds and cold, and many of them shifted as they prowled the outskirts of their home. Draco ate slowly, stewing in the anticipation of his coming meeting with the supposed-messiahs.

 

When the meal was cleared away he moved to a common area where only a few still milled around, preparing to start their rounds. Some of the women and children were lingering, bedtime for the little-ones approaching.

 

“They’re ready.”

 

Draco turned to finding Luna behind him, hands clasped behind her back and serene as always.

 

“Where should we speak?” He asked her, assured she would steady him with her advice.

 

A man roughly Draco’s height and age with thick, dark, unruly hair emerged from the shadows behind her. “Here, if you’ll allow it.” His voice was steady - a hum that wound around Draco and left him tense and at ease in an unsettling balance. From behind him came another man, with hair like fire and eyes like the oceans Draco had only heard tell of; he bore a smile that was broad and infectious. Together, they shielded the woman of infamy, though Draco felt her in his bones as though he knew her better than the surety of his own breathing.

 

“Here is fine.” He motioned to vacant cushions that lay not far from a fireplace. “I am-“

 

“Draco. Malfoy. Slytherin-bred. Alpha to those who survive.” _She_ spoke, taking her place between the two men as they sat before the warmth of the hearth. Draco remained standing, agog.

 

“How did you-“

 

“Don’t scare the man, ‘Mione.” The redhead piped up, a lethargic grin sprawling across his face. His lazy gaze found Draco’s as he lounged back on the seat, stretching. “We know who you are because of who you are, not because we’re some bloody mind-readers.”

 

Draco remained confused. “I’m still not sure I understand. Who are you?” He dared ask, their presence an unrelenting conundrum.

 

“We’re Gryffindor-bred.” The man to the right of the woman said – the man with a scar across his forehead that made Draco’s heart drop into his stomach as if it had solidified in his chest. “I’m Harry. This is Hermione. That loudmouth there is Ron.”

 

Hermione, still enrapturing everyone with her scent, leveled Draco with her cool, chocolate stare once more, and he was mesmerized. An unprecedented peace dripped down into his bones. ~~~~

“We've had a long journey; an unpleasant one. We've come seeking a home.”

 

Draco braced himself, standing to his full height - alpha pheromones wafting off him in waves. Ron let out a loud bark of laughter.

 

“We're not going to challenge you, mate.” He nodded between himself and Harry. “We're just looking for a home. We’ve heard this is where we could find one.”

 

Draco had questions swelling on his tongue but a wave of something soothing - not unlike a warm blanket - abated his desire to prove his dominance. Hermione's eyes never left him, sending a shimmer like an evening summer breeze through him. The saturation of her omega pheromones seemed to even out his wildly-fluctuating emotions. ~~~~

It was unsettling, and terribly, _terribly_ thrilling. 

 

“You're unmated?” He asked, braver in voice than heart. Ron laughed again.

 

“She is no one's but her own.” Harry said, eyeing her with a fond smile. Draco remained confused.

 

“Neither of you...?”

 

They both shrugged. Hermione seemed unperturbed by the fact that the men almost-encircling her did the speaking for her; it wasn't because she was theirs. It was because they were hers. ~~~~

“We're not her mates.”

 

Draco absorbed the information, his heart quickening in his chest. He took the opportunity to sit across from them, lips in a tight line as he fought for focus.

 

“Ask your questions. We will answer them as best we can.” Hermione spoke with an easy certainty.

 

“You're Gryffindor-bred.” It wasn't a question.

 

“Yes.”

 

“But I thought you'd died out, after the nightwalkers left?” His brows furrowed as he attempted to recall old history lessons. 

 

“We did not die,” Hermione responded coolly, a mischievousness flitting across her features as she turned to her companions. “We thrived where the old ones sleep.”

 

The women and children had long since left the room - Draco's appearance having heralded something of importance coming - and had been replaced by a few of his men that were not on patrol duty for the night. A silence fell as she spoke and every man stared with unhinged amazement.

 

“How? For how long? And why are you here now?”

 

Ron smiled and turned to look at Hermione and Harry in turn before speaking. “It was time.” He made it sound simple when Draco thought it quite the opposite.

 

Someone - Blaise or Cedric if Draco had to guess - swallowed loudly behind him.

 

_It was time._

 

 

The Gryffindors were a knot intertwined; three pieces of a three-piece puzzle. Draco burned with more questions.

 

“Are you _the_ Gryffindor-bred? Of tales?”

 

It was Harry's turn to laugh. “Of tales? What of these tales?”

 

Luna emerged from the shadows . “As children, for many turns of the sun and moon, we were taught that the Gryffindor-bred will return to unite what was lost; to mend the world as it has become.” ~~~~

Hermione looked at Draco as Luna spoke. Ron watched the fair-haired woman in wonderment. Harry slumped against his cushion, suddenly dreadfully bored.

 

“The nightwalkers remain as they are, the mortals remain as they are, and the old ones remain where they are. No one ventures into another’s lands. It's been a long time since any wolf has encountered the mortals or nightwalkers, and the old ones have become all but myth.

 

“There were tales that those of Gryffindor birth would rise again opening passage to old, forgotten lands.

 

“The the world that was is in but remnants; old ruins we cannot fathom the use of, but the herald that would accompany the return of those lost would bring new life to all the world.”

 

Hermione eyes never left Draco’s, lips parting as she readied herself to speak. “Do you believe we are these bringers of fortune?”

 

He held his tongue for only a moment. “I hope you are.”

 

Her eyebrows rose with new-found amusement. “And if we're not?” ~~~~

“Then I would have to question how my men found you.”

 

She offered him a smile, seemingly satisfied. “And what of the nature of this meeting?”

 

“What do you remember?’

 

“Of what? Of sleep? Of life? Of death?” Her lips quirked in another mischievous smile.

 

“Of how you arrived here. Of how we found you.” He paused, tilting his head, finding his footing as the conversation progressed.

 

“You found us in the outskirts of your land, bound together, barely alive.” She began, her voice a honeyed-lullaby. “Harry and Ron were asleep. I was not.”

 

“And in their sleep, they spoke: “ _We are Gryffindor.’”_ Draco paused, gauging her reaction. “What did that mean?”

 

“What do you think it meant?” Harry asked, inspecting his nails as he spoke.

 

“A herald.” Draco was firm. Hermione’s lips turned up at the corners.

 

“And if we are?”

 

Draco was gaining stride within the conversation. “Then we have more important things to discuss.”

 

Ron, having finally dragged his adoring-stare from Luna, tilted his head. “Well,” he let out in a huff, “we are and we aren't.” The frustrating silence fell, leaving all but the three visitors in a state of unease. ~~~~

Draco sighed, turning away to look to his men. “It's late. We can talk more in the morning. Please, find them a place to sleep.” He stood and glanced between them as they rested by the fire. “I will have more to ask tomorrow. For now, sleep. Your wounds still need time to heal.” ~~~~

Hermione's gaze was heavy on his back and he felt it, felt as though he'd only begun to breathe now her eyes were on him. A fire spread through his chest, and an ache rose within him like an awakened dragon in its lair. Heat enveloped him; her scent unhinging him as it engulfed his senses. He could feel the pull of something unnamed between them. He snapped away, Blaise and Theo hot at his heels.

 

If they weren't the history of their kin come to life, then she was certainly an Angel of Death come for his soul – and he feared he would freely give it.

 

~

 

Though he’d meant to go to bed, Draco found himself pacing the length of his bedroom by the fire’s dying light. He was careening into the abyss of questions their presence posed. An anger quaked within him, showing itself once he was separated from the most breathtaking omega he’d ever met. Only one question mattered: who were they?

 

Draco struggled with the hope their presence fueled, the mere possibility that he may have under his roof the fabled bringers-of peace. This hysterical hope warred against his fear that their arrival would leave he and his family facing dreadful consequences.  Though it was yet to be determined if they truly were those of myth and legend – of _prophecy –_ their uncanny nonchalance in the face of immeasurable pain was both unsettling and telling. It shook him to his core; had his insides racketing with such grievance that he was unable to sit still. He sensed it was only a danger to his kin and left them with less understanding than before.  

 

And that _woman_.

 

Hermione was… an impossibility. An omega of any other name would’ve been meek, or at the very least mated into submission, but she was the foundation the other two seemed to stand on. Draco had the sense they wouldn’t step out of line for fear of her wrath - though he harbored a morbid desire to see it happen.

 

When she was before him, Draco felt nothing but bliss. Though he’d firmly believed Theo had been a fool in the beginning, he’d soon learnt the truth. Thinking back on her almost _entrancing_ visage, and still soaked in her exquisite scent as though it lingered within his soul, Draco found himself salivating. It invoked a rare feeling of self-loathing.

 

He hated it.

 

No omega in Draco’s short life had reached into him – torn him apart – infuriated and infatuated him – left him biting his tongue and nearly falling to his knees in mindless praise. _She’d done it in moments._

 

It was no wonder Draco couldn’t sleep. Between his anger at their feather-light indifference to their probable-importance and the unnerving affect this emboldened omega woman had on all she encountered, the situation was nigh on insufferable.

 

Sleep eluded him; exhaustion did not. The sun clawed out from behind the clouds to shine despite the winter storm brewing in the sky. Until Theo came wrapping at his door, Draco was certain no time had passed at all, having long since given in to the madness of his racing thoughts.

 

“Draco.”

 

He leapt up, turning quickly to face his doorway. Theo was leaning on the doorframe, concern causing his face to scrunch around his nose.

 

“What is it, Theo?” Draco reached for his shirt. He’dtaken it off to coax his body to sleep. ~~~~

“You haven’t slept.” Theo arched an eyebrow, pushing himself off the frame before entering. “You’ve been thinking of her, haven’t you?”

 

Draco sent him an exhausted but no less disgruntled glare. “I’ve been thinking of many things, my friend. Though it has done me little good.” After pulling his shirt over his head Draco slumped down onto his bed, looking far more lost than his earlier bravado had led on.

 

“Thinking has done nothing but pull us all into a spiral. But Draco,” his voice grew tight. “We have a larger issue.”

 

Draco looked at Theo with a mix of confusion and surprise - the idea of anything other than their current situation taking precedence seemed unlikely.  “What could possibly be more important than addressing strangers in our home?”

 

Theo grimaced. “Protecting them.” He hesitated for a moment, tearing his eyes from Draco's. “Or, perhaps, protecting _one_ of them.”

 

An angry howl erupted and echoed through the halls. Draco and Theo exchanged only a quick glance before launching from the room, seeking out the source. What they found was worse than they imagined.

 

Hermione was standing in the doorway of her room, clothed in borrowed items and hair wild as the untamed mare she’d proven to be. At either side of her door were two enormous wolves - one black, one a majestic amber - their fangs on proud display. She had one hand on each of their heads, though she seemed unphased by their snarling and growling.

 

The scene surrounding her was one of hysteria. Draco’s men were crazed in trying to keep several of their shifted brethren from soaring at the throats of the wolves standing guard at Hermione’s door. A howl ate its way out of one of the smaller shifted men - a tired grey, Cedric by the looks of it - and was quickly accompanied by another, louder howl from the large, darker grey Viktor beside him.

 

Theo halted almost comically in an attempt to not stumble into the mess. Hermione's scent overwhelmed the hallway - it was inescapable. One-by-one they ran into it as though it were a brick wall. Theo's pupils grew - irises darkening - and his breath became heavy. Just as he made a move to step forward, he felt the painful presence of his alpha on his chest and tilted his head to stare at his captor with a barely-controlled feralness lighting his eyes.

 

“Sorry,” he begged, terrified of Draco’s palpable anger.

 

“Not now. Help Blaise and the others get Viktor and Cedric out of here.”

 

Theo did as he was told, escaping in a hurry behind Draco to help usher the ruthlessly unhinged members of his family out of the room. After immense effort, the howling ceased and the ferocious insanity was out gone.

 

Once the hall was emptied of mayhem Draco shifted to face the three who still stood, unmoved, in Hermione’s doorway. He knew without asking that Harry and Ron had turned in their attempts to protect her from ill-intent.

 

“Champions of peace or not,” Draco said, inches from Hermione’s face, his anger a swift coating for each quiet word, “should you bring death to my household? You will not be welcome in it.” He turned on his heel to look at the sole member of his home remaining in the hall, Luna. She was, as always, at ease, despite the depravity they’d witnessed only moments before.

“Stay here with them. After we’ve all eaten, I’ll call for all of you. Until then,” he looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with Hermione again, “stay inside.”

 

He stormed off.

 

~

 

“Please forgive us.”

 

Cedric was a quivering mess at Draco’s feet. At his side Viktor stood in his quiet, angry stupor. Their hands were bound. Cedric was slumped in self-determined defeat, where Viktor stood straight - his round shoulders set square and solid. Draco strode around them in a slow, deliberate circle.

 

“Tell me what happened.”

  
Cedric let out a cry.

 

“We’d just gotten back,” he sniffled, only briefly meeting Draco’s volatile glare before his eyes darted away. “We were headed to the kitchen to get a quick meal before we headed to bed.”

  
Viktor remained silent - at attention.

 

“Her door opened - the two men were waiting outside for her.” Cedric took in a shaky breath, shaking his head manically. “And then the next thing I knew I was being held back by Vincent, howling like a man struck with madness.” Cedric let out a whimper. “Oh god - Millicent! What - what will she think?”

 

“Nothing else insighted this – merely her presence.” Draco sounded flat and unimpressed. “You weren’t provoked?”

 

Viktor’s stern facade whipped to meet Draco’s. “She is heaven. Should she have asked us to slit our throats in that moment, we would have.” He waited a beat. “She did nothing but exist.” His eyes fell to the ground for the first time. “We were weak.”

 

Draco stopped his pacing to look at Theo and he called to memory his firsthand man beginning to lose control at her scent alone. He relaxed.

 

“I believe you.”

  
Cedric let out a sob. Viktor remained stoic and afflicted by something almost imperceptible - perhaps it was sadness.

 

 

“Go back to your rooms. I’ll have a few of the others bring you something to eat.”

 

Draco watched as Cedric stood on shaky feet with the assistance of someone behind him; Viktor shot up quickly, seemingly ready to be in his room and away from the reminder of his shame as fast as possible. The two now docile men were escorted out by Vincent and Justin, disappearing from his sight.

 

Once they were out of earshot, Draco heaved a sigh as he collapsed into his chair. “I barely have the energy to eat this morning; I’m not prepared to stop a war in my own home.” His fingers slid over his temple in attempt to give pause to an approaching headache. Theo took two small steps toward him, uncertain for the first time in their shared history together.

 

“Draco, I -” his breath caught in his throat. “I can’t believe I did that.”

 

Draco waved it away. “I can. I hit that same wall that you did. Her scent is a tattered bridge over troubled waters - impossible to navigate but deceptively well-guided for those of easy influence.” His candor spoke volumes in his exhaustion: it took a long moment for the weight of what he said to hit him, and he jumped from his seat to face Theo. “I don’t mean to suggest you are weak-”

 

“I am.” Theo stood straighter. “But you aren’t.” His anxiety waned with the smallest of smiles. “I’ve never been more certain of you, Alpha.”

 

Draco all but swallowed himself whole in a laugh. “My gods, man,” he wiped at tears that had begun to prick at the corners of his eyes. “You can’t just _say_ things like that.”

 

Theo grinned, the tension of the room finally having been broken. “I’m going to get us something to eat. Sit. Relax. You look like you could use it.” Before Draco could respond, he was gone.

  
Hints of laughter still slipped from Draco - his exhaustion having bled to hysteria - but the quiet slowly sobered him. With nothing but the cold of the season to keep him company in the room, Draco could only look at to himself for answers. He believed his men, which gave him a sense of solace; that wasn’t the issue. They'd been rendered feral, acting purely on instincts. They were howling as though their hearts had been ripped from their chests. Draco had never seen his men so lost within themselves. He knew, with a certainty that reached his toes, that this was an undoing brought on by their new guests. Despite this, his found himself focusing on something entirely different.

 

Something far more harrowing echoed.

 

_Why had he been so clear-headed in everyone else’s absence?_

 

_Why was he able to call to action those around him and quickly stop a possible disaster?_

 

_Why did his eyes never leave hers?_

 

In chaos, she was his light; she did not blind him, she gave him clearer vision.

 

_Why?_

 

~

 

A gasp echoed down a darkened hallway; a woman dropped a tray of food to the floor. “Can it be?” She cried, having fallen to her knees. Her fingers made quick work of seeking out answers from the spilled food beneath her. “Are they _here_? Within my lifetime?” Her voice carried off as she wept, a joy within her she’d never thought herself capable of knowing swelling in her chest.

 

“They Gryffindor-bred, the _saviours_ ,” she sighed, clutching at her chest. “Blessed be!” She dipped down to scoop up the remains of what she’d dropped, then scurried off to the kitchens at top speed.

 

In the darkness - behind thick metal bars - a man let out a tired, wheezing laugh. No light, no breeze entered his cell, but whispers found their way to his keyhole, and he took them, hungry for them.

 

“Is that the case, now?” A laugh whistled between the bars and into the empty, waiting air of the hallway. “Most interesting. Most interesting indeed.”

 

~

 

After time had given everyone the chance to return to their true selves, Draco steeled himself in preparation for a meeting with the strangers who had started the peculiar trouble that now plagued him. At long last Luna led them in, a walking breath of fresh air as she did so.

 

At Luna’s back was Hermione ahead of her men, walking proud and face-forward. Ron and Harry walked at a lazy pace behind her, seemingly indifferent to being summoned after a near-disaster in his home, but Draco had long since chosen to ignore their laid-back nature.

 

"I'm sorry for this morning," she said. "It was not our intent to cause such chaos." She inhaled steeply before continuing. "I'm nearing my cycle."

 

Draco had been immeasurably tense since the morning, but this gave Draco pause. It begged a question he’d been haunted with earlier in the day: why was he functioning so well around a woman who had such a profound effect on every other alpha in his home?

 

As if in response to his silence a new wave of omega pheromones wound around him, curled through his airways and sat on his tongue until he was certain he knew her taste. Still, he remained of sound mind.

 

His men, on the other hand, made quick work of excusing themselves from the room to stop another onslaught of feral activity from taking place, leaving Draco with only Luna to rely on. Her smirk did nothing to abate his fears.

 

“It seems we’ve found him.” Harry said, back to inspecting his nails with cool disinterest. Ron, who was on the left of Hermione, was staring at Luna.

 

Draco took a sharp breath before returning his attention to the matter at hand.

 

“I believe the three of you owe me a far greater explanation for your sudden appearance here. I’m well within my rights to demand you leave should it come to it.” With a feigned confidence he did not truly feel, Draco turned away from the trio to take a seat. Once he found was settled he gestured to his guests, suggesting they get comfortable on the cushions he provided, trying not to be offended by the lack of appropriate participation by a certain person.

 

“There will be no need to ask us to leave,” Hermione hummed, sliding her legs beneath her as she sat. A swell of sweat had begun to pool at her collarbone, stressing the entrance of her approaching cycle’s plight. For the first time since his initial meeting with her, Draco felt the carnal urge to drag his tongue across her skin until she was wet with only his scent and her longing. He shook his head in hopes of banishing the thoughts until he could obtain the information he needed.

 

“Explain yourselves.” His fingers steepled before his face as he spoke, his legs crossed tightly at his knees, eager for their words.

 

“What do you think us?” Ron asked, tearing his eyes from Luna where she still stood, oblivious to his interest.

 

“I’m still very much in the dark. I tend to disbelieve the suggestion that you are our saviours.” Draco paused, casting his eyes between them. “Our world is not in such a state of disarray that requires saving. We are surviving.”

 

“Should you survive, or thrive?” Harry asked, as though he had finally joined the conversation. “Is there not much that you wish to achieve?”

 

Draco hummed a laugh. “Achieve? What am I meant to achieve other than the comfort of my family and a home for them to live in?”

 

Hermione turned to rest against Harry before propping her feet up and into Ron’s lap. She lounged with a sudden comfort Draco had not expected to ever see. A new heat spread through the room with her as its source, causing Draco to become painfully aware of her in his slacks.

 

“You will achieve so many things, Draco Malfoy. You are destined for so much more than you know.” Hermione’s hair was now woven around Harry’s fingers, and Ron’s hands were massaging her feet. Draco was mesmerized as they casually worshipped her body with practice and ease, though both were seemingly unaffected by her scent and unbridled sensuality.  

 

“And what is it I’m meant to achieve? I have a happy home, well-fed family members, and stability I’ve built with my own hands. We haven’t seen humans nor the nightwalkers in a decade’s time.” _Not since I buried my father in the dungeons_. “What is it I still have to gain?”

 

“There will be fruits of your labor; facets of your life you’ll never have thought possible. Your home is a relic from the world that was.” Hermione’s voice was nectar – honey – smooth as the whiskey Draco had found in a vault buried deep within the caverns of the house. He could not help the grin that spread across his face.

 

“I’m well aware of the ruins that litter our home; the boxes with glass, the boxes with long metal protruding from their tops.” He paused, envisioning each as he spoke, having long since given up on discovering their purpose. Dismissing them, he waved his hand. “They hold no importance to us now.”

 

“No, you’re quite right, they don’t. Not those, at least.” It was Harry’s turn to speak. He was just as dismissive as Draco had been, though he had the ring of condescension in his response. Draco didn’t enjoy being coddled in his own home.

 

“Would someone please speak freely of what you’ve come for?” The anger that rose in his throat was thick as bile, and his hands slammed down against the rests of his chair. “I'm tired of your indifference, and I'm tired of your effect on my men. Speak of why you’re here or speak not at all.”

 

Ron let out his typical bark of laughter. “We will speak, Malfoy. We will speak.”

 

Draco steadied himself, briskly waving his hand for a continuance.

 

“As we’ve said, we’re the Gryffindor-bred. For some time, we’ve slept where the ancient ones still sleep. We were raised - reared - by those still resting beneath us. We have known what _was_ in a way you could barely begin to fathom, and we come with knowledge of what will be.”

 

Draco sighed and slumped back into his chair. “Enough of your riddles, _Ron_.”

 

“They are riddles for your sake; you are not ready for the truths that support them.”

 

The anger Draco had brimming within him continued to pop and boil as he clutched at the arms of his chair. “Either you tell me these _truths_ , or you tell them to the wind outside of my home.”

 

It was Harry’s turn to laugh, causing a rippling effect through into Hermione, who all but squealed in mirth.

 

“My word, how you baffle him so. Ronald, would you tell him the one truth he must certainly hear?” She spouted it in giggles before calming herself into their arms again. Ron smirked, preparing to speak.

 

“We are not the saviours, Draco Malfoy.” His grin grew almost gruesome. “ _You_ are the saviour.”

 

Now Draco laughed, dark and unamused. “Ah, yes. Myself: Draco Malfoy the Saviour.” He laughed again, no longer granting them his gaze. “You must think me a fool,” he spat.

 

Hermione righted herself from between two men, her eyes finding his in an instant.

 

“It’s the truth. You are the saviour of this land; we are merely the instruments.”

 

Draco stilled again, his breath caught in his throat. When Ron or Harry spoke he seemed to find himself willingly dismissive, but when her fierce brown eyes found him and she spoke, it was as though a bell of truth was rung inside his chest. As if to aid in the situation, a new steady thrum of omega pheromones twirled around him, and his tongue dipped out to lick at his lips as if she were already on them.

 

“And how am I meant to use you?” His eyes, dilated but focused, remained on hers. The ache in his bones became great, as if each hinge of his body was ready to launch him to hers. The humor that had bubbled within her before had disappeared, as if her lounging had been nothing more than a test - a test he was meant to weather.

 

“That will be yours to choose,” she sighed, breathy, as if her exhale was meant to fill his lungs.

 

“And what am I meant to achieve, with these instruments?” His tongue slid between his lips to lick at their dry exterior, seeking sweet moisture - even if it was not hers. She continued to watch him, unwinding him with just her presence.

 

“Only you will know.” She stood, the others following suit. “It is nearly my time.” Her words came out more of a gasp, and despite how quickly her scent was changing, the men on either side of her managed to remain unaffected. Ron slung his arm around her waist while Harry took her arm over his shoulders; they seemed to exist only to support her.

 

Her eyes found his one last time. “You know where to find me.”

 

He all but gasped, only his sensibility keeping him in his chair, as he watched her leave. Luna hastily shut the door behind them.

 

“I do hope they hurry. If our men were on their haunches before, they will be at the moon now.”

 

Draco wanted to howl at the thought, the hunger of _mine, mine, mine_ tearing through him with a searing speed. Never had he truly felt his alpha feast on him and attempt to take ravenous control the way it did with the lingering of her scent. Her retreat gave him room to breathe again, his senses returning with haste as he turned over and over the revelation they’d provided him. He was the saviour - of whom? And for what purpose?

 

_And why now?_

 

\--

 

Draco waited until he was composed enough to leave before making his way to the roof. Discoloured walls that desperately needed patching caught his attention; holes in the roof above him allowed a stiff breeze to chill the air. Time had left his home decrepit and the focus on the strangers – the _Gryffindors –_ had kept him from his duties. Each floor needed work and Draco thanked the gods for the sudden distraction to his quarreling thoughts.

 

His room was the least disrupted from the Old War, which was likely why he’d been awarded it. There was a working fireplace and a chute to and from the kitchen – a dumbwaiter, though the name meant little sense to him. The mattress was old and there were no sheets, but there was a thick comforter to keep him warm.

 

The rest of the house was large and well-used, if run-down. The walls were brown with age and peeling. The basement was the only place other than Draco’s room that seemed to have survived untouched – but its sole inhabitant was not kept there in comfort.

 

History had not been kind to the area making it impossible for only but a scant few crops to grow; however, as Draco had told the insufferable trio, they were surviving. There was farmland behind the house that was vast – and the barn behind the crippled rows of corn was sturdy enough to contain whatever crops did grow in the warmer seasons. They were _surviving_.

 

Draco stewed in his anger. His home was not perfect, but it was warm – _welcoming._ He did _not_ appreciate being told in no uncertain terms that he was failing his family. They were the only pack that stood the test of time, and their home was a testament to their resilience.

 

Hermione’s scent slithered to Draco like steam from a hot bath. He let out a frustrated sigh; his attempts to distract himself had failed. He increased his speed to the roof, each step with purpose; he shifted at the foot of the stairs to the roof.

 

\--

 

Outside his home, at the borders, there were stirrings. In the light of the world they were but rumours, dangled on the branches and limbs of trees and brush, but they were rumours nonetheless. Theo, having braved the cold for his duty, had shifted, prowling around the grounds.

 

“You are not prepared for what will come.”

 

His ears perked up, a man with no scent having arrived before him. A growl rumbled from his chest, his teeth pulled into a snarl.

 

“You are not prepared for _him_.”

 

The man was shaken to his core, covered in dried blood and useless animal skins that did nothing to protect him from the cold.  Theo grumbled another growl, and the shaken man took a few stuttered steps back.

 

“None of you will be prepared for him.”

 

Before Theo could stop him the man bolted from sight. Theo let out a long howl - the sound carrying over the storming winds above him - until it was met with another, then another.

 

A human had come. A human had come days after the three Gryffindor-bred had arrived, and that was not a sign of good things to come.

 

\--

 

“He’s busy at the moment.” Luna was in the kitchen helping the other women prepare dinner. Theo slammed his fist against the table.

 

“Busy? I’ve never heard such mindless drivel in my life.”

 

Ron, having appeared in the kitchen with a magical ease, snatched a nearby apple from a pile. “He’s certainly busy.” The snap of the apple against his teeth seemed only to aggravate Theo further.

 

“All I hear is that he is busy but nothing of _how_.”

 

Ron grinned, taking another snapping bite of his apple. “Desperately avoiding his fate.” He raised his eyebrows, a knowing within his eyes far too deep for Theo to be concerned, before he disappeared from the kitchen entirely.

 

“I’m not convinced I like him.”

 

Luna laughed. “I’m convinced I like him very much.”

 

Theo’s glare did nothing but make her laugh harder.

 

“When Draco is _free_ , I need to speak to him.” He hovered momentarily before inching closer to her. “I’ve seen a human.”

 

Someone behind them dropped a pot with a gasp.

 

“It’s begun.”

 

Theo took a deep, resigned breath. “What on earth has _begun_ , Trelawney?”

 

The woman hobbled to him, hands cradled l in nervous twitching. “The Gryffindor-bred have brought the war with them.” She grinned, maniacal. “They’ve brought the war that they will win with them. And he will rise again in an attempt to defeat them but they will win,” she laughed, gleeful. “They will win!”

 

\--

 

Theo was at the bottom of the stairs, idling against the wall, when Draco finally descended from the roof.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Nothing could have prepared him for the news that Theo shared, and the announcement stole even more surety from him.

 

“Gather the men. We’ll need to inform them that we’ve had a sighting on our land.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair to attempt to straighten out the disheveled look it had taken on. “I have a rather pressing matter to attend to.”

 

Theo laughed, causing Draco to send him a scathing glare. “Not Hermione.” His face grew grim. “If this is what I fear it may be, we are in for far worse very soon.” He sighed and uttered again, far lower, far graver: “Far worse.”

 

He had to see a man in a dungeon about a history he’d long hoped would remain only that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There may be more. 
> 
> Maybe. ;)


End file.
